


Luncheon is Served

by thealphagate_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-23
Updated: 2006-03-23
Packaged: 2019-02-02 10:05:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12724518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealphagate_archivist/pseuds/thealphagate_archivist
Summary: Observations from the kitchen table





	Luncheon is Served

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the archivists: this story was originally archived at [The Alpha Gate](https://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Alpha_Gate), a Stargate SG-1 archive, which began migration to the AO3 in 2017 when its hosting software, eFiction, was no longer receiving support. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are this creator and it hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Alpha Gate collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/thealphagate).

  
Author's notes: Warnings: Sex, language  


* * *

I'm known here as the kitchen table. Actually in another life I was a dining table. That's when I was in England, where class and style are recognisable and valued commodities. Jack acquired me when he was stationed in England and I've been here in the United States for quite a few years. I try and retain my dignity amongst the brash and loud American furniture. I have a retinue of servants with me, the chairs. They sit under me because they know their place.

Listen to her, off again being all snooty and top in the air. She makes me sick.

Sshhh Sandra, she'll hear you.

Don't care. We do all the hard work, getting sat on, moved, and scraped across the floor. We get the shopping dumped on us as well.

Yes but we also get Jack's lovely backside on us as too.

Ooh yeah, forgot about that. That always shuts her up. Heh heh!

Ooh you're so horrible.

Yeah I know. Good isn't it?

Of course it's left to me to uphold the standards in this kitchen. I mean the cupboards are all over the place, opening their doors and gossiping like they do. I like it best when Jack gives me the chance to dress up in my finery. My favourite is the white damask. Sometimes he lets me wear my tiara.

Bloody candlesticks she means.

Sandra!

I've notice Jack has a new friend. He's a very nice young man, educated and he has good manners too. Not like some of the friends Jack has brought home to sit around me in the past. Sandra? Who were they?

Jarheads.

Yes that's right. Can't think why they're called that. The only jars I remember were when I was in service and the kitchen maid would make conserves and fill lovely clean jars with apples, apricots and pears in brandy. Those were the days, when standards were higher than they are now.

She forgets the times when that jam got dripped on her veneer. She didn't like it so much then.

Sandra, don't be mean.

Oh phtttttt!

Yes those particular jars, jarheads were crude and rough. I can never understand why men like that take so much pride in making noises from every orifice in their bodies.

You think hearing the noises are bad, you should try `hearing' them from where I'm sitting.

Sandra, really, please have some decorum. We don't need that kind of commentary around the table thank you.

Um table ma'am?

What is it Mary Jane?

What's matchwood?

You don't need to worry yourself about that my dear. We're made of good strong English oak and we'll be here forever. Oh look out, Jack's on his way. Chairs! Neat rows please. Let's keep our standards.

Oooh good, it's Daniel. He's here as well. Love it when he plants his ass on me. He's got such a cute tush.

Oh dear, now they've left their coats across my top and I can't see. Mary Jane? What are they doing?

Well, ah, table ma'am, they're kissing.

I said he was a nice young man. He's observing the niceties of polite society.

Table ma'am? It's not that kind of kissing.

Nah, its good to honest necking, that's what it is.

Well, at least Daniel has moved the coats out of the way. Oh my gosh, he's inspecting my surface very closely. I can feel his breath on my varnish. Don't drool my dear, it's very unbecoming.

Hey, Mary Jane, Jack's taking off his trousers.

Oh my! That's a bit much isn't it?

Too bloody right! Have you seen the size of it?

Sandra! That's enough now! You've spent too much time around those jarhead people.

Oh this is nice. Daniel is giving me a little polish, rubbing himself up and down my surface. How considerate.

Sandra, stop giggling. You know table ma'am likes us to be quiet and ready to be of service.

Well I think it's Jack that's doing the servicing now!

Well Daniel is doing a lovely job. My varnish is looking really good now, shame he keeps rubbing this one spot though. Now I know it's not French Polishing. What would you call it Sandra?

I'd call it buffing, table ma'am!


End file.
